


Proposition

by GoodJanet



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-leap Sam trying to wordlessly hustle Al into the men’s room to talk out of habit, because he forgets for a second that everyone else can see Al too and it’s okay to talk to him in public, and Al is mortified because it looks exactly like Sam is propositioning him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SweetPollyOliver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPollyOliver/gifts).



Al had insisted that they meet at a new vegetarian place in the city. There was only so much cafeteria food that he could stand to eat, and there were so few options for him. After being parted for so long, Sam found little reason to protest.

Al picks him up for dinner at seven in his sporty car, and Sam makes sure his shirt is tucked in before getting in. They’ve been separated for so long, so he wants to be sure he looks like himself, which is to say presentable. Al, of course, is in a midnight blue suit with a bright yellow tie. Sam smiles. They’re going to make quite the pair.

They pull up to the restaurant—Nice to Seat You—just in time for their reservation. Sam orders a beer, while Al orders something a little stronger, and they both browse the menu.

“What looks good, Al?” Sam asks from behind his menu.

“I was thinking of pasta. Maybe a side salad?”

Sam puts the menu down, eyes shifting from left to right.

“Um, everything alright, Sam?”

“I just feel kinda weird. You know, this never gets any less uncomfortable.”

Al frowns in confusion.

“Sam, did you get into Gooshie’s not-so-secret stash of the whacky stuff?”

Sam rolls his eyes. Why did Al always have to make everything so difficult for him? Why did everything have to be a dumb joke? Sam stands.

“Come on,” he whispers. Al notices that people are beginning to stare. The table closest to them has ceased their own conversation to listen to theirs more easily. “Meet me in the men’s room.”

The neighboring tables look understandably scandalized, and for the first time in years, Al feels his face flush. They think Sam wants to do the dirty in the men’s room. Before Al can even respond, Sam’s already making his way to the restrooms. As Al awkwardly stands, a woman in a peach dress gives him the once over with a snooty look to boot.

“It’s not what you think. He’s just a little…confused.”

The lady sniffs and turns back to her party. What a nozzle. He’d better go talk to Sam. It was going to be a little difficult to explain to the kid that everyone within hearing distance thought they were up to no good. Luckily Sam’s alone in the men’s room, allowing Al to speak freely after locking the door behind him.

“Sam, what the heck is going on? You know everyone saw that, don’t you?”

Sam wrings his hands.

“Sometimes I forget, okay? Is that so terrible? Can’t we just go finish our dinner? I’m really sorry.”

“Look, I don’t know about you, kid, but everyone out there thinks we’re having ourselves a little private time in here. Not exactly a friendly dining environment.”

Sam looks embarrassed. He runs his fingers through his hair, obviously trying to think of a way out of this.

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner.”

Al sighs. Poor kid. He didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a habit after leaping for so damn long. Longer than he or anyone else on the project was meant to. Sam did a lot of good, but there were still adjustments that needed to be made in his own life.

“Ah, c’mere, Sam. You didn’t ruin dinner.”

Sam is grateful for the hug. He’s grateful for any physical contact. It all still feels so surreal, being able to touch Al.

“I still miss this, sometimes,” Sam confesses. “I know I can touch you now, but sometimes it feels like it’s not enough. Like if I let go, it’ll never happen again. I forget that I can talk to you and touch you.”

Al swallows over a newly formed lump in his throat. He knew what Sam meant. It might sound odd, but to anyone who has been touch-starved and experienced long term separation from life and loved ones, it made perfect sense. When he finally came home after Vietnam, all he had wanted to do was kiss and touch and hug and pet and love Beth until the day he died. Al never got the reunion that he and Sam have been able to enjoy. He understands, and he never wants Sam to feel that same pain every again. Not if he can help it.

Al pulls back a little to ask, “What do you need, Sam?”

Al fits his hands over Sam’s cheeks. It earns him a small, sad smile. It’s something. It’s a start, and that’s all that matters to him.

“What do you need?” he repeats.

“Need _you_ ,” Sam answers.

“Anything. Anything you need.”

Rather than explain himself, Sam leans down to place a soft, open kiss on Al’s lips. Sam’s lips taste like hops and mint chapstick, and if he presses his tongue a little deeper into his mouth, Al can taste traces of mouthwash and the sweet taste that must just be Sam himself. Sam reaches out and grabs Al by his suspenders and pulls him in even closer. It kind of surprises him. He didn’t think goody-goody over here could be so suave, but he was clearly mistaken.

“Should we give them something to actually talk about?” Sam questions.

Sam’s flushed, but Al can tell that it’s not from shame or embarrassment. No, this time it’s from a pure urge to satisfy his physical needs. Sam wants to do something bad, something downright dirty. The kid wants to do the bingo bango bongo in the men’s room, which has always been on Al’s bucket list, but he never thought he’d be able to cross it off because of _Sam_.

“Jesus Christ, Sam, there’s no way in hell I could say no to you. Especially something like this!”

Sam smiles. It’s brighter this time. It’s at his expense, but Al will take it. He’d do anything to make Sam happy again. And if he were to be happy in the process, who is he resist temptation?

“Turn around, okay? Hold onto the bar.”

Al’s turning around pretty quickly, considering he’s not entirely sure what Sam’s going to do to him. Or with him. Or on him. Or in him…

“Sam, just what are you—“

Sam comes up behind and hugs him, holding him still. Al can already feel how hard he is, how tight those jeans must feel. It was just like being in the Navy: hard, fast, no questions asked. A little thrill goes up his spine, and he feels himself slowly adjust the idea of whatever was going to happen. He wanted to please Sam, and if this was what he needed, he was more than happy to give it to him. It would feel so, so good to feel that close to him to. To be so intimate and to put such trust in each other was almost more than he could handle.

Sam reaches up and pulls Al’s suspenders off his shoulders. He’s thankful Al left his jacket at their table. He loosens Al’s mustard tie, but doesn’t take it off. It wouldn’t do to look _too_ disheveled upon their return. This was still a public place after all. Sam knows he should feel guilty, but seeing Al shiver under his ministrations makes the guilt fade away into nothingness. It was going to feel so good, and knowing Al wanted this too was almost too much.

Sam’s hands drift downward, slowly, slowly until he’s finally undoing Al’s dark blue trousers. He can feel how much he likes being touched. His cock is distending the fabric of his underwear, and Sam wants nothing more than to drop to his knees in front of him and let Al do whatever he wanted. But if the rattling of the doorknob was any indication, they weren’t going to have time for that today. Instead, he settles for letting both pants and underwear drop to the floor, leaving Al bare from the waist down.

“I didn’t think you had this in you, kid,” Al husks, laughing breathlessly.

“Let’s worry about what’s in _you_ ,” he rasps.

Al looks over his shoulder.

“That better not be some empty promise. If you keep talking like that, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind!”

“It’s not an empty promise, but I can’t do that here. Not now.”

“Sam!”

“Al, trust me!” 

Al’s about to protest further when Sam goes over to the soap dispenser and coats his hands.

“Sam, you can’t use hand soap as lube. I don’t know what kind of porno you’ve been watching, but it just doesn’t work.”

He already knows that, of course. He uses the soap to coat Al’s thighs in the stuff. It’s thin and slick and wet, and then Al finally gets it.

“If you don’t hurry up—”

“You’re impatient when you’re horny,” Sam cuts in.

Al comes up with about fifty thousand retorts and arguments and accusations, but they all vanish as he watches Sam finally undo the zipper and fly on his jeans. And he’s honestly shocked when he sees that the kid has gone commando. And god, Sam’s huge. He’s mesmerized as Sam slicks himself up with the soap.

“Did you leap around with that or…?”

Sam doesn't dignify that with a response. He juts his chin out, and Al takes that as his cue to turn around. Sam moves in close.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs. “We don’t have to, you know.”

The doorknob rattles again, louder. They both feel dirty, filthy, really.

“What, back out now?” Al says with more bravado than he feels. “And miss this with you? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”

Sam presses a kiss to the side of Al’s neck before slipping his dick between Al’s slicked thighs. Sam wraps one arm around Al to hold his opposite shoulder and the other wraps around to grab his dick. They both moan long and low, half-hoping the restaurant did and didn’t hear.

It’s slippery and wet and wrong and, but Al wouldn’t trade it for the world. If he was going to be bad and filthy, he’s glad he be those things with Sam. Because really, what else in the world could possibly matter? What could matter more than Sam’s desperate moans and his kisses and his hardness pressing against him? What could matter more than Sam grunting his climax in his ear, prompting his own with a sure, steady hand?

When Sam kisses him once more and they clean everything up and are just about ready to face the world again, Al knows the answer:

Nothing.

Nothing matters more to him than Sam.


End file.
